Achilles scowled. “I’ve never really understood Fate, not in fiction or reality.”

“I understood it once.” I shuddered, gazing at my own tear-blurred hands which seemed (not only then but always) red with blood. “I understood it, after I killed Apollo—no, after I learned I hadn’t had to kill Apollo, when I met Jehovah and realized that, by letting me think I understood the way the Hives worked, Providence had tricked me into killing the best person in the world.” I choked. “I understood then, but these past years, seeing Bridger’s powers, I let myself fall into the delusion that Providence might be simple. It isn’t simple. It isn’t kind. It isn’t working toward some happy end where we’re all saved, and every bad thing that happens turns out to be for the best in ways we can’t yet see. It isn’t cruel either, though it often seems so.” I tried to meet his eyes, but faltered. “It’s not trying to destroy humanity, or torture us, or leave us in the dark alone. It’s something else. There is a guiding Principle, not Good, not Evil, not Justice, not even Progress, something else that we can’t understand or name yet, one of these God-sized concepts that even Jehovah can’t describe in all His languages. Providence planned this war. It’s going to let millions die, let cities burn, make us tear down the better part of the world we’ve built, but it’s not going to let us wipe ourselves out. That’s why it left you. A kind God would have left us Bridger. A cruel One would have left us nothing. This One left you. You know how to fight this war, Achilles. We have no idea what’s coming, but you do. You’ve fought this war before, a future war, with flying cars, and tracker computers, and new weapons made from Mukta fuel and U-beasts. You’ve already fought Apollo’s war. You can teach us.”

The veteran rubbed his hands, exploring their calluses, so many kinds, too thick to let the nerves beneath feel much anymore. “It won’t start with new weapons. It’ll start with bats, and kitchen knives, and scared people defending themselves against neighbors they can’t trust. Then Sniper’s hero delusions will spread, people imitating war movies with the guns and planes and missiles hobbyists have stashed in their basements. Innovation will take longer.”

I felt my own tears changing, hope diluting grief. “But you know the old weapons too. You fought at Troy with bronze and horses. You fought the World Wars with guns and planes. You know how to lead men into battle, what will break a soldier, and what won’t. You trained in the trenches, and with Chiron, and in Space. You know how to fight this war. You know how to fight every war ever, because you have.”